Semi-Daily Scribbles

"Busy is the new procrastination," Gregor said through a mouthful of burger. "Hey, I didn't mean that as a personal affront. I know you're working on things, and I'm used to you never being on time."

"Thanks, I guess." As I sat down, I heard my belly rumble, so I reached across to grab a few fries off Gregor's plate. He quickly held his hands over the remainder of his lunch like a shield. Just then, the waiter came by with a Cobb salad, and set it down in front of me.

"I ordered for you."

"I see." Hungry, and now angry, I shoveled the food in so fast, I didn't come up for air until I felt my appendix scar rubbing against my waistband. It usually didn't do that.

"Bad mood, huh? You know, you'd be doing yourself a favor by eating small meals throughout the day. Might balance things out. Make you less flighty and forgetful."

"Flighty and forgetful, I like that." I'd loaded up my fork and was about ready to drive it home, when my patience and my appetite took their leave.

"Something wrong, Wendy?"

"Yeah. Remember that thing you always used to say? 'Shut up and make art.' I thought it was stupid, and made you sound like an ass. It took me a long time to figure out what you were going on about. Everyone's got problems. Don't let them consume you. Take that energy and turn your troubles into something positive, something beautiful. Do I have it right?"

"Sure, but I don't understand where this is coming from." Gregor was talking to his French fries as he lined them up in a row.

"I took your advice, and now you're taking shots at me for figuring out how to be happy. From where I'm sitting, this looks to be a no-win situation.

"You don't like Cobb salad."

"I like it just fine. What I don't like is thinking I've handled all my problems, only to be staring at the biggest one of all." I signaled for the waiter. "Check please."